Monday, October 19, 2009

The Name "Senior Citizen" Stinks

Talk about a PR campaign. I need to start one. I better do something if I am going to make it thru the next 15 years of working. After that you can call me a senior citizen.

It all started when I entered TJ Max in South Beach, FL this past Saturday. The branch just opened and I had never shopped at the retail chain. All I ever heard is that it had some designer merchandise at steep discounts.

I wasn't in the store five minutes when a not-so-young-herself sales lady beelines over to me and bellows loud enough to be heard in Carnegie Hall, "We are offering senior citizens additional discounts today if you sign up for our credit card."

My world stood still. I watched every man and woman near size me up to see who the old biddy was. My husband and a male friend just stood there with smirks on their face expressing "ha ha."

I asked the sales lady how old you have to be to qualify and she said 55. I told her I was 54 and walked away.

Now we all know that I am a few years older than that but I don't want it broadcasted to make me feel what senior citizens used to represent.

In many ways I have more energy than lots of people much younger than me. I don't do jumping jacks and I haven't had my body nipped and tucked like most of my friends and family but does that mean I have to be the "alta cocker" (Yiddish for old fart) in the crowd.

I cant do anything about my age but don’t want to be characterized as old. I am deep in my career, I run around with my friends after work, I watch stupid high school movies, have more apps on my iPhone than most and I frequent many trendy new restaurants. My second home is in the playground of Miami. Need I say anymore?

I don't want to be referred as a senior citizen. How about a "seasoned citizen”? That is really who I am.